On Sleepless Roads
by GoddessofSnark
Summary: The one person who held her up is gone, and now she feels hollow and empty. Character death.


A/N-I came across an original piece I did around this song and going back over it, I thought that it did really kinda fit would might happen if the one person who really holds the mourge up was to suddenly wind up in there with a toe tag instead of as a member of the staff. This is definite character death, so if you don't want to put up with that, don't read it. And I don't own the song, and I know I'm not supposed to use the lyrics, but I've never been one to play by the rules, so long as it doesn't get reported than I'm in good shape (that's a hint, by the way ;) the song is Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World, and I don't own that or the characters from Crossing Jordan...

_There's no one in town I know_

_You gave us someplace to go _

_I never said thank you for that_

_Thought I might get one more chance_

It was funny, the only person who she trusted the most, the only one that she had let completely into her life in a way she had let no one in before was gone, and she had no clue where to turn. She found herself sitting in her car, parked in one of the many little overlooks onto the river thinking about everything and nothing.

Danger had been part of the job, but no one expected to go off in the middle of the night, no one there expected to be reminded of their own mortality in such a way. Going down in the line of duty was something that one could prepare themselves for, that the ones around them can prepare for, that they could deal with. There would still be the pain, but it would be offset by the realization that they had died for a noble cause. Dying from a natural cause, something that happened to a million other people, that was the unexpected death.

And now she found herself thinking about everything that had transpired in the past decade. The only one to have given her a second chance, the only one to have given her multiple chances, a chance at all, was gone, and she felt alone. Even when her father ran off she hadn't felt like this-even when she'd get mopey and think that he was dead, it never felt like this.

It felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her life-she had no one to prop her back up onto her feet anymore. He had done so much for her, so many little things that she kept thinking she'd have a chance to acknowledge, he'd done so many things for her that had gone thankless, so many little things that had built upon one another, and she knew she never thanked him nearly enough for all that he had done for her, she kept thinking that he would be immortal and she would be thanking him for everything he had done when she was the one on her deathbed, not the other way around.

_So what would you think of me now_

_So lucky, so strong, so proud_

_I never said thank you for that_

_Now I'll never have the chance_

When she had first met him, she had been broken, damaged. He had seen her at her most vulnerable, she was erractic, emotional, and on the verge of death. She smoked too much and drank too much and depended on sleeping pills to get even an hour or two a night. He had given her a chance to get out of that, get out of the hell that her life had been, he gave her a chance to really be something.

He had helped her overcome what she had been, he had been the strings to her marionette, and now the strings were cut and she was left a ragdoll, limp and motionless. She had become so much, she had finally come out of her shell and the feisty, spunky side that she always had in her had finally shown itself, and she wouldn't take no for an answer-and it was all thanks to him. She had been so much because of him.

She had told him before that he meant a lot to her, that he meant the world. That the day he walked into her life was the most important day in it. She had told him before that he had meant everything to her, but she never once thanked him, not with those words, she kept thinking that she would have a chance to say it-she had showed her thanks many times over, but she had never once said it, and now she regretted never telling him.

_May angels lead you in_

_Hear you me my friends_

_On sleepless roads the sleepless go_

_May angels lead you in_

And now he was gone, and she never would have a chance to tell him how much he had done for her, how much of an impact he had in her life. Now he was gone and she had no place left to turn. She had her friends, but they were grieving too, everyone had known him and everyone had loved him, and now he was gone, leaving a great, gaping hole in all of them.

It should have been her that was currently being wheeled out of their own workplace. No one actually could do it, it took someone else, someone from outside of Boston to come in to see what really happened, and the news that he had just gone, quickly, quietly, softly with no other cause, no foul play involved rocked them. It put them face to face with their own mortality.

_So what would you think of me now,_

_So lucky, so strong, so proud_

_I never said thank you for that_

_Now I'll never have the chance_

She had almost died, and he had saved her, he had saved her from herself, and he never knew. He had rescued her, saved her from a path that would have led to her being the one wheeled in there to become just another statistic, another burnout who took a permanent end to a temporary problem.

But he had created a better solution, he had removed her problem, and in the process lifted a weight off her shoulders. She had grown tall, proud, strong, no longer afraid to voice her own opinions, be herself when she was faced with opposistion. She always had it in her, but it took him to remove the shell that had built itself up around her, he had knocked down the ice and got her frozen heart to start beating again, he was the one who taught her how to feel again.

He was always there for her, no matter what. Bitter breakups, tearful fights, she could always show up at his house and he would be there for her, consoling her, always putting his own baggage aside to help her deal with her own, and every time he helped her get back on her feet, back to the strong proud woman she was, and she never thanked him.

_May angels lead you in_

_Hear you me my friends_

_On sleepless roads the sleepless go_

_May angels lead you in_

The sun was starting to peek up, pale pink rays coming in from the direction of the ocean. She felt her cheeks wet with tears she hadn't known she'd been crying. She hadn't slept in days, but she didn't notice, she was too wrapped up in walking the walk of the dead, the walk of those who no longer had their souls, who just walked on, going through the motions.

It was just another sleepless night, just another day that went by, another sunrise, another sunset, another day where she went through the motions, acting as if all was normal. She knew that people were beginning to notice, they noticed how she looked more dead than he did when she appeared, dressed in black to the service. They noticed the hollow look in her eyes as she tried to come to grips with her own grief.

She got out of the car, and stretched, walking back and forth across the overlook, staring into the Charles River. The murky water had become a trademark of the city thanks to the Standells, and it looked so cool, so calming compared to the firey pain shooting through her.

How many people had she seen come out of that river, half eaten, half decayed? She had seen her own brother jump into it, ending his own life. She leaned over the railing, staring down into the dark dirty water, and watched as a teardrop made its way into the sludge, dropping the long way down to land with an unnoticeable plop in the river, no one would notice a single tear, and it would take at least a day to notice a body.

She shoved herself forcefully away from the guardrail, backing into her car, she couldn't, she wouldn't. He had saved her, she wouldn't throw it back in his face like that, she couldn't do that, not to his memory. She wanted to, she wanted to just let all the pain go, but she couldn't, not that way, not after all he had done to talk her away from the thought of doing that on more than one occasion.

_And if you were with me tonight_

_I'd sing for you just one more time_

_A song for the heart so big_

_God wouldn't let it live_

What she would give for just one more day with him, one day to tell him how much he meant to her, to thank him for everything that he had done for her, for everyone, just one more day to tell him everything that she had wanted to tell him, to thank him for all that he had done, to make good on all the things she owed him.

She wanted to tell him everything, answers to the questions that he had asked her time and again, and that she refused to answer. She wanted to thank him for holding her up, she wanted to tell him that there was no on in the world that could hold a candle to him, tell him how wonderful of a person he was.

There was no on in the world who would have done all he did. He tried to hide it, he tried to act as if he was just a gruff, cold man who hid inside bottles of scotch and had an icy exterior, but she knew him better-they all did. They all knew that try as he may to appear cold and hard, he was genuinely nice, genuinely warm hearted.

There wasn't much he wouldn't do, he would have laid his life on the line for any one of them, he would have sacrificed all he had for them. He would let them get away with murder, they could have brought in someone that they killed and he would have ruled that they died in a way that would completely cut them out of the picture, throw all suspicion away from them.

And he was like that to everyone, even the dead. She remembered a time, a few years before when he had paid for one of the people who came through the mourge to have a proper funeral, rather than just be dumped somewhere. He could talk relatives who had nothing but spite for whoever was dead into at least doing something to remember the one who passed.

He was a man who try as he might to be hard and cold was always warm and giving. And that was what she loved about him, he was her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, no matter what, he was there for her, waiting until she was levelheaded to pass judgment on her, but always doing it for her own good, always there to help her, never wanting to see her hurt.

_May angels lead you in_

_Hear you me my friends_

_On sleepless roads the sleepless go_

_May angels lead you in_

And now he was gone. She climbed back into her car and cried, until the tears wouldn't come anymore. There had been far too many nights like this, nights where the only sleep she got she had cried herself into. She was falling back into her old habits, her old ways of not sleeping, not eating, pushing herself to the limits because she couldn't see a reason to live, to keep living.

She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and turned the key, listening to the car as it came to life. He was gone, and she couldn't change that, try as she might, he had gone and died a death no one expected, and she was left shaken and hollow. But if there was one thing that came to mind whenever she thought of him it was the knowledge that the one thing he had done most was prop her back up when things went wrong, when she was on the verge of going over the edge, and she knew that now, if he wasn't there to do it for her, that maybe she might have to do it herself.


End file.
